See the World Upsidedown
by chinquix
Summary: Hetalia AU. Having just moved to America, Arthur Kirkland is a new student at Hetalia Academy. But even with his new life, he can never completely outrun his past.
1. Chapter 1 Oblivion

**My second chapter-fic, first time writing an AU :D Hopefully, as the plotline for this one is more developed, it'll have a slightly better ending than my first fanfic...that's the plan, anyhow. So, anyway, as I mentioned this is a Hetalia AU set in America, in Hetalia Academy. Arthur (England) and Alfred (America) will be the main characters, with appearances from the rest of the cast later on (as well as an OC or two of my own). **

**Now without further ado, I give you Chapter 1 - Oblivion**

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_"Jesus Christ, you can't do anything right, can you?! You're useless!" The screaming form before him was distorted by angry tears, colours running and blurring together like an oil painting in the rain. He was finding it hard to breathe now. Sobs wracked his weak chest, choking him each time he inhaled, fury and disgrace burning in his throat. He tried to swallow back his mewling, to retain some form of dignity, but his body had turned traitor and just would not listen. The face of his tormentor loomed towards him, twisted into an ugly sneer. Knowing what was coming next, he bit down hard on his lip till he pierced the skin, focusing on the pain and the metallic taste of blood. A cleched fist swung upwards to meet his cheek. The world exploded momentarily into a chaos of stars and spots, a stinging, aching sensation spreading through his skull, and for a second he was sent reeling. Fighting against the shriek of agony that threatened to burst out of him, he steadied himself and turned, clumsily, to glare at the elder boy. But his usually powerful gaze was now wavering and fragile. Dizziness was slowly consuming him, and with panic he realised he was losing consciousness; colour melted into black, static buzzed in his ears, and it felt like he was drowning in oblivion..._

---

Arthur threw himself upwards, gulping at the air, in a frenzy of whimpers and flailing limbs. Panting, he took a second or so to grasp the situation. Sheets twisted round his legs, and his fingers were grasping at the soft mattress beneath him; it was alright, it had just been a dream.

The teen sat bolt upright in his bed for several minutes, shivering despite the slight beam of sunlight that filtered through his bedroom window, and tried to clear his head of the terrible visions that had plagued his sleep. Letting out a shaky breath, Arthur ran a hand through his mop of unruly hair. He then covered his sharp green eyes for a moment, as if afraid of what he would see should he open them, before sighing and disentangling himself from the linen, slipping out of bed and stumbling sleepily over to the partially opened curtains.

He drew back the fabric further, wincing and letting out a low hiss as the morning sun quickly invaded his gaze. Blinking back the flickering spots, he allowed the curtain to fall back into place and hobbled over to the bedside table, grabbing the alarm clock as he passed. He inspected it through eyes narrowed with fatigue, and groaned. 7:30 - he was late. Galvanised into action, Arthur leapt across the bed to the large wardrobe beside it, flung open the creaking and decrepit doors, releasing a cloud of dust as he did so. Waving away the particles in irritation, he delved inside, rifling through the dated and old fashioned garments. Eventually, with a small cry of victory, he found what he was looking for. He tugged gently, and stepped backwards with his prize grasped to his chest; a crisp, new uniform. Scrutinizing the set of clothes with mild disdain, he huffed slightly then turned to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Several minutes later, Arthur stood before a grimy mirror, casting a critical eye over his attire. He sighed morosely at the mess of hair that adorned his head, knowing he didn't have a hope in hell of taming it. Absently, he flicked a speck of dirt from the pale blue collar, then, seemingly satisfied, he nodded and left the room.

Dashing down the stairs, he skirted round the corner and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Grabbing a cooling piece of toast left on the breakfast counter (and mentally thanking his brothers for their forgetfulness), he shoved it into his mouth, whole, whilst ducking to pick up the empty school satchel. Shoving numerous books and stationery inside, he allowed himself a brief glance at the clock. Ten minutes until school started. Cursing in between mouthfuls of charred bread, he struggled to pull his shoes on, fumbling with the laces. Snatching his coat from its hook, Arthur was out of the front door in a flash.

Bracing himself against the Autumn chill, he pulled on the large winter jacket. In other circumstances, he would never have worn the old thing, being always so particular about his appearance, but right now that was the least of his concerns. He couldn't afford to be late on his first day at school in this exasperating country. Hurrying along the path, Arthur noticed others travelling in the same general direction, people around his own age. With a small pang of loneliness, he watched as they chattered and laughed with each other, but quickly shook the depressing notion from his mind. As he rounded a corner, he was met with the impressive sight of a huge, stone building. Towers protruded from behind the pale walls, overlooking the extensive and well maintained grounds. Intricate metal gates marked the entrance to a gravelled driveway, a crest wrought into the design surrouned by the words "Hetalia Academy" in an elegant font. Arthur had first laid eyes on this building several months before, when he'd visited the school for a tour of the campus, yet it still never failed to amaze him.

The drone of the bell drew him out of his reverie, and with a muttered string of expletives he bolted up the stone steps and through the doors, shoes screeching painfully on the heavily polished floor.

There were several students still milling about in the hallway, and they now turned to glance at him, curiosity evident in their eyes. Ignoring them with some difficulty, Arthur scanned the inner hallway for some clue as to where he should be heading, wondering vaguely why there were no signs in this place. He suddenly remembered the map he'd been sent along with the letter detaling his acceptance into the Academy, and slinging his bag off his shoulders he dug inside.

He ripped out a crumpled sheet of paper, hastily flattening it and scanning the map with growing impatience. There; a small dot marked "Reception", with a handwritten label beside it. That was where he had to go. Darting off once again, Arthur hadn't gone far before he was brought to a sudden stop. Cannoning into something soft yet, at the the same time, sturdy, he was sent reeling backwards and hit the ground with an _"Oof"_.

"O-oh my God, are you ok?! I am _so_ sorry!" a heavy American accent babbled, and Arthur sensed someone drop down besides him. Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his head. "What in the ruddy hell...?!" he growled, then looked up. Concerned blue eyes met his own chartreuse gaze. He frowned. He was sure the world shouldn't be spinning like that...sound faded away into a dull throb, and Arthur felt decidedly queezy. With one last groan, he let his consciousness fade, and was left with one bizarre thought before he fainted; _not again_.

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**What did you think? It's probably best to mention I fail at writing dialogue, so the next chapter will be a little heavygoing...please just bear with me, though! Comments and constructive criticism _very _welcome!**

**~Chinquix  
**


	2. Chapter 2 Blue Eyes

**This chapter is up so soon because I'd actually written it a while ago. From now on, it'll hopefully be updated once a week or so. I've decided that I don't like the title any more, but it's too late to change it now, so sorry for its lameness T-T Big thanks to all those people on deviantART for their help! (you know who you are). As I said before, I'm really bad with dialogue, so sorry if this drags on a little ^^;**

**Onwards to Chapter 2~**

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Arthur didn't like this. His limbs felt heavy and cumbersome, combined with the sensation he was floating, almost like he was underwater, and he could see nothing but the occasional speck drifting across his vision. There were faint sounds, but they were more of an irritating drone than anything. No, he didn't like this one bit. At first he thought he was unconcious, and was rather proud of this revelation, before realizing that, by the very _definition_ of the word, he shouldn't be thinking at all.

Now even more confused, Arthur noted with growing anxety that he wasn't alone; something was brushing against his elbow, and the sounds were now becoming more discernible as murmuring voices. Refusing to let panic take hold, he swallowed, waiting. Gradually, the awkward drifting feeling subsided, and he found himself once again in control. Opening his eyes a crack, he discovered he was laid on his back, resting on some sort of makeshift bed in an unfamiliar room. The voices were now loud and clear.

"-told you, I didn't mean to! He just, like...ran into me!"

"Ah, _mon cher_, you are 'opeless, you know zat?"

Arthur felt himself scowl at that. _Great...a frog._ He had to strain hard to catch the next statement, as it was uttered so softly and was almost entirely unremarkable.

"I think he's waking up, Alf-"

"Hey, I'm not hopeless!" The first voice interrupted, seemingly unaware anyone else had been speaking. There was a quiet sigh, as if the other was used to this. "Besides, I'm not the jerk who was running down the corridor. How was I supposed to know he'd go and faint...?" Suddenly realizing with indignation that these three strangers were talking about _him_, Arthur decided now was the time to cut in.

"Well, _excuse me_, but-" as soon as it had begin, his opinion was cut short, unfortunately, by a resounding crack and a string of expletives. When he'd launched himself from whatever piece of furniture he'd been deposited on, Arthur hadn't expected to be met with resistance from a precariously placed shelving unit.

"_Ruddy _hell...!" he growled, clutching his brow. Once again, his gaze was blurred through stars and spots. Refusing to aknowledge them, he blinked the offending illusions back, angrily, then jumped as a large hand was suddenly placed on his head.

"Man, are you clumsy!" The confident voice seemed familiar, and peering through his fingers, he caught a glimpse of the same dazzling blue eyes from before. Curiously, he felt his face heat up at the contact.

"W-w-what do you think you're doing?!" Arthur spluttered, scrambling backwards. He grabbed a nearby book with which to arm himself. However, on further inspection, protection seemed unnecessary. His 'attacker' turned out to be a slightly younger looking boy, with short blond hair that stuck up awkwardly on his crown, and slim spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. The teen glanced at him, bemused and obviously startled by the reaction, but nevertheless held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

"Uh, right..." the blond said with a quizzical expression, "I was just tryin' to help, y'know...Oh!" His face suddenly lit up with a broad grin, startling Arthur with the sudden change of character. "I'm Alfred, by the way! Alfred Jones. You sorta ran into me back in the corridor..." he laughed obnoxiously, a sound Arthur found almost instantly irritating. It was then that he noticed the other two young men in the room, obviously the source of the voices he'd heard earlier, and aknowledging this interest Alfred began to gesticulate wildly towards them. "Yeah, that's Francis, he's a pal of mine," he explained. "And this is-oh, hey Mattie! I didn't know you were here too!" Again he laughed, this time directed at the slightly bland and inconspicuous looking individual in the corner. Arthur nodded warily at him, noting the features he shared with Alfred and came to the conclusion that they must be brothers.

It took Arthur a second or two to realize that the room had fallen silent, and all eyes were on him. He blinked, then suddenly understood what they were waiting for. "A-ah, yes. I'm Arthur Kirkland." He held out his hand, but no one came forward to shake it. Discouraged, he retracted it uncertainly, clearing his throat (a nervous reaction of his). Beginning to doubt his already dubious sanity, Arthur wondered what on earth he was doing here, in this room full of silent strangers, when a loud exclamation caused him to flinch.

"Hey, wait a sec! You're British!" Alfred was grinning again, obviously pleased with his analysis. The bearded blond, Francis, rolled his eyes and spoke for the second time.

"Oh, _puits-fait_, Alfred," he drawled in a nasally french accent, "Your perceptive abilties never cease to amaze me..." He then flashed a smirk at Arthur, sending a disgusted shiver up his spine. "Of course, zere is nothing all zat special about _les rosbifs_."

"At least we're not wine-guzzling _frogs!_" Arthur retaliated before he could stop himself. Green eyes widening, he clamped a hand over his mouth, far too late. _Dammit, dammit, dammit! _he cursed. The frenchman blinked at him, then frowned, opening his mouth to enact revenge, but was promptly broken off by the ring of a bell. Arthur leapt to his feet.

"Oh _Lord_, I didn't realise it was that late! A-and I'm supposed to be meeting the principal, and now he's going to think I'm not coming, and-" a hand over his mouth shut him up, and he paused in his frantic panic. For the third time that day, cerulean eyes caught his own, and he vaguely wondered if this was to become a regular occurrence.

"Geez, calm down! You're meeting Principal Rome...?" Alfred asked, then removed his hand and snapped his fingers. "Oh, I get it now! You're that new guy, right? Well, you shoulda said so earlier!" Arthur considered pointing out that he didn't exactly have the chance to do so, but thought better of it. "No worries, I'll take you to him right now!" Alfred thrust a thumb towards his chest. "I am the Hero, after all!" and before he could argue, Arthur found himself being half dragged out of the room, Francis and Matthew trailing behind.

"I'm sorry," Matthew whispered (or maybe he was just speaking normally, Arthur couldn't tell), "but he has a bit of a hero complex..." he gave him an apologetic smile.

"I would never have guessed," Arthur muttered sarcastically, pondering what on earth the world was coming to as he allowed himself to be towed down the hall by an overactive American.

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**Translations~**

**_mon cher _- my dear**

**_puits-fait _- well done**

**_les rosbifs_ - french slang for the British, from 'roast beef'**

**Not as good as the first...I hope it wasn't too boring/confusing a chapter ^^; _Please_ review, it really means a lot! (O-oh, I sound so needy T-T) I love writing as Iggy~ Oh, and if anyone's interested, I'm also looking for a beta!**

**~Chinquix  
**


	3. Chapter 3 Advice

**Longest chapter so far. Sorry it took a while ^^; **

**Chapter 3~**

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**A clock ticked idly somewhere in the immaculate office, the steady rhythm seemingly in keeping with the orderly feel of the room. At a large, over-polished desk in the left corner, a middle-aged man with long golden hair glared, unforgiving, with cold blue eyes. On the table before him was a silver plaque reading 'C. Beilschmidt, Vice Principal'. As if the name wasn't enough to go by, the shape of his face and bone structure suggested he was of Germanic decent, a fact that Arthur didn't find particularly comforting. There was an impatient shuffling to his left. The green eyed teen turned to glare at the American next to him, who appeared to have decided that the two were now _friends_, and therefore would not, under any circumstances, leave the Brit alone.

It had been to his utter dismay that, after accompanying him to the Reception, Alfred had insisted on staying with him even after Francis and Matthew had departed. It wasn't as if he hated the younger boy, exactly; how could he, they'd only just met? It was more the fact that there was something about him that Arthur found incredibly infuriating....he would even go so far as to say that he made him _uncomfortable_...unexpectedly, his cheeks flared up at this thought. He chided himself for the irrelevant reaction.

The sound of a throat being cleared recaptured Arthur's attention, and he looked up to see that the Vice-principal had now stood up and was pointing towards a door at the back of the office.

"You can see him now," the man spoke, voice completely void of all emotion, and with slight confusion as to how this German could possibly know that with, apparently, no form of contact whatsoever, Arthur nodded his thanks and stepped through the door marked 'Principal's Office'. Exasperatingly, Alfred half skipped after him without so much as a seconds hesitation. The door shut behind them with a soft 'click'.

Immediately, the atmosphere calmed considerably. This room was painted with warm colours and deep, earthy reds, as opposed to the almost clinical décor of the previous office. Various photos hung on the walls, depicting everything from school festivals to family picnics. Intrigued, Arthur wandered over to a particularly interesting picture, showing a grinning man with two young children balanced on his shoulders, one with a blissful smile on his face while the other was pouting. The sense of family affection was so strong that, momentarily, he felt a bitter twist in his stomach, and was forced to look away. He jumped when he saw that Alfred was leaning over his shoulder, giving him an odd look.

"Hey, something wrong...?" he asked, bemused, and Arthur realized with sudden shame that_ tears _were stinging his eyes. Absolutely mortified that just staring at a stranger's photo could provoke such a reaction, the Brit was, thankfully, spared the trouble of having to answer as a tall, powerfully built man abruptly strode in. This also created an opportunity in which to quickly clear his eyes.

"Ah, there you are!" the man exclaimed, rubbing his hands together with apparent glee, before practically throwing himself into the padded chair behind an oak writing desk. He shuffled through a number of papers for a moment, muttering to himself before giving a cry of victory, brandishing a piece of paper triumphantly. "Knew it was here somewhere," he chuckled, then turned his attention to the two teens. "Alfred, I see you've taken the new student under your wing, as it were?" he smiled approvingly, and Arthur noted how Alfred seemed to swell with pride; obviously, he had some respect for the Principal. He then turned his smile to Arthur, and held out a hand, which the blond promptly shook. "Kirkland, isn't it? Arthur? So sorry I couldn't meet you earlier, busy schedule and all that. Well then, I'm Principal Rome, as I'm sure you're well aware," he paused to laugh for a moment. Arthur was a little taken aback by the Principal's rather brash personality, but found himself warming to him despite this. Although he was a little older, judging by the friendly brown eyes and dark, unruly hair this was the same man as in the photograph.

"So, I trust you're settling well into the Academy?" Principal Rome asked, hands resting against each other to form a steeple. "That is to say, if you're instant friendship with Jones here is anything to go by," he winked. Arthur felt like correcting him on the term _friendship_, as it was hardly reciprocated, but thought better of it, nodding instead.

"From what I've seen so far, I'm sure I'll be very happy here," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't lying; the Academy was like a d ream come true for him. Well, apart from one particular annoying American, of course.

The Principal laughed. "Good, good! Well, I won't keep you long. Lessons have started, after all." He glanced thoughtfully at Alfred for a second, who had been leaning casually against a polished display cabinet whilst their exchange had taken place, then his voice took on a more authoritative tone. "Alfred, would you excuse us for a minute?" The American glanced up, apparently a little confused and wearing, bizarrely, an almost crestfallen expression, but shrugged nonetheless and let himself out of the sunny office.

Rome watched him go, face pensive, then scanned the paper he'd been so pleased to uncover moments earlier. Arthur couldn't help but feel the tiniest sensation of apprehension. After a moment or two, the Principal took in a short breath, and stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully.

"Arthur," he spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. "From the vast amount of praise I've received about you, I'm completely confident that you'll do perfectly well here, academically speaking." The way he spoke suggested there was something unpleasant to come. "However," he continued, and Arthur almost chuckled bitterly. _There's always a 'but'_. "I'm just a little concerned about your...well...background."

_Here we go..._Arthur lamented. _It's always the same_.

"Now, I'm certainly not saying that you won't be welcome here. As you've already seen, the majority of our students are exceptionally amicable. Nonetheless, I believe it's important that we make sure you don't risk any serious conflicts with your fellow pupils, and so I urge you to be especially careful as to who you confide your past to."

His dark eyes had been focused on the young Brit for the entirety of the short lecture, both sympathetic yet implausibly uncomfortable at the same time, and though Arthur appreciated the effort, he also couldn't help but feel slightly irritated by the pitying tone in the Principal's voice.

"Thank you for the advice, Sir," he replied, slightly icily, "but with all due respect, I think I can handle it." The older man gave him a slightly saddened stare, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.

"Yes. I understand, Mr. Kirkland," he inclined his head, then slid his chair backwards and stood up. "Very well, that'll be all. If you'd like to make your way to your first lesson..." he gestured towards the door, and Arthur shook his hand once more before turning to leave.

"Oh, and Arthur? One last thing," the teen paused at the door. "That Alfred. He's a good boy. I think you should perhaps lend him a little more trust..?" the Principal smiled softly, then returned to whatever work needed to be done.

Blinking once, Arthur left the room.

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**Lame attempt at a meaningful speech is lame . Wasn't too sure about how I stole Prussia's surname for Germania (who is the Vice Principal, if you didn't guess), but I couldn't think of anything else. **

**I wrote this in three seperate sessions, and was too tired to read it through properly, so please tell me if it gets a bit confusing in places!**

**Please review~ I'll give you some more angsty Iggy~**

**~Chinquix**

**Note: I have an art exam going on all this week, so the next chapter may be delayed ever so slightly.  
**


	4. Chapter 4 Studying

**Just to say in advance, I'm really sorry to any Americans if I messed up on the whole schooling thing...obviously, I've never been to an American school ^^; Up slightly earlier than I expected, it appears art exams give me a surge of creativity~ There was something off about this chapter, but I can't quite put my finger on it...anyway...  
**

**Chapter 4~**

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Alfred had been sat in the Reception, humming loudly to himself and completely oblivious to the harsh stares the Vice Principal was giving him, when the door finally opened and Arthur stepped out. He jumped up, grinning.

"Hey, what was that all about?" he laughed, strolling towards the Brit. He stopped mid-stride, however, when his query was returned with a malicious glare to rival even the stoic old German's.

"I'm sorry, but it's really none of your business," Arthur replied levelly, attempting with great difficulty to keep the sourness from his voice. Alfred paused for a moment, a little taken aback, but recovered almost instantly and easily caught up with the older student, who'd made a quick dash for the exit of the office and was now hurrying down the corridor.

"Aw, come on man, don't be like that!" he whined irritatingly, and Arthur half turned round to look at him and - _oh God, is he pouting?!_ Alarmed, the Brit came to an abrupt halt.

"L-look," he began, humiliated by the stutter, "what the Principal said to me is _strictly confidential_, and so there's absolutely no reason for me to repeat it to you!" Rome's suggestion that he could perhaps trust in Alfred was still clear in his mind, but he wasn't willing to put his faith in the younger boy just yet, if at all. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off to my class..." he trailed off. A sly smile was forming on the American's lips.

"You...don't know where you're going, do you?" Alfred spoke slowly and with evident glee. Vainly searching for an excuse, Arthur finally accepted his fate with a muttered curse.

"No, no, I don't know where I'm going," he admitted through clenched teeth, brows furrowed in frustration. The younger teen was now wearing a full-on smirk, a look which made Arthur gulp both with terror and...something else.

"Well then, looks like _you're_ going to need my help!" Alfred snickered, then grabbed the Brit by his slim wrist. His face softened into a more innocent grin. "No worries, I'll find out for you!" and the two of them were off again.

"Ah, w-wait a second...!" Arthur protested, but it soon became apparent that it was no use arguing with this brat. _Oh, honestly..._he huffed, but nevertheless felt the tiniest of smiles forming.

***

Arthur gazed uncomfortably round the room. He was stood at the front of the class, before a considerably sized audience of fellow students, all of which were staring right back at him in curiosity, boredom and, in some cases, amusement.

Alfred, of course, was nowhere to be seen. After the younger blond had somehow acquired a timetable and sent Arthur in the vague direction of his Social Studies class, he'd dashed off with his usual exuberance whilst yelling something about 'Hero's duties'. _That's the last I'll see of him then..._Arthur caught himself thinking, somewhat bitterly. Not that he really cared, of course.

And so that was how the Briton now found himself in the daunting position of introducing himself to a collection of merciless teens. He had the slightest suspicion that this was his punishment for arriving late, but then again, it could just be another bizarre American custom. Clearing his throat, he begged his voice not to quaver.

"Uh...hullo," he raised his hand for a small wave, but thought better of it at the last moment, resulting in an odd lurching moment. _Smooth, _he mocked himself mentally. Silence. "My name's Arthur Kirkland..it's a pleasure to, uh, meet...you all..." Hating how his voice gradually weakened until it was little more than a whisper, he felt as if he would die from the indignity of it all. He was _never_ good at speaking to crowds. To make matters worse, his face was now heating up dangerously.

"It is nice to meet you too, Arthur-kun." A soft voice finally broke the silence. Blinking, Arthur turned to look at his saviour; a short Asian boy with raven black hair and equally dark eyes, seated towards the back of the room. His classmates turned to glance at him, then one by one offered their own greetings.

"Hi..."

"Hey!"

"Hi, nice to meet you."

Letting out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Arthur shot the Asian a gratified look, which he returned with a faint smile. The slender blond weaved his way through the mess of desks to an empty chair behind a tall, white-haired boy, who turned to grin maliciously at him as he passed.

"Kesesese~Nice going, limey. Looks like you owe Kiku one, ja?" His voice seemed oddly contrasted, a combination of American slang and German accent, and his eyes were a strange pinkish red, which Arthur found slightly disconcerting. Unsure of how to respond, he merely scowled and lowered himself into the seat, relieved the experience was over.

The teacher, a bored looking young woman, seemed to decide now was the right time to begin the lesson properly, and strolled languidly to the front of the class.

"So, the Civil War. Let's start off easy. Who can tell me the exact date when hostilities began...?"

***

The study hall hummed with quiet chatter, accompanied by the odd bark of laughter. Teachers mingled with the students, checking their work, snapping with an occasional reprimand. Scanning the mass of teens, Arthur stepped clumsily through the crowd.

After a minute or so, he began to despair, all but ready to give up on finding somewhere quiet to study, when he stumbled into a small figure.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Arthur began, before recognising the boy in front of him. "Ah...K-kiku, isn't it...?" he blathered, reassured to see a somewhat familiar face. "Thank you ever so much for helping me back there..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish, and resorted to rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The young Asian inclined his head.

"Please, think nothing of it. I, too, know what it is like to be an outsider," he smiled in a way that could have been interpreted as warmly, except his face seemed to display little change in emotion. The black haired boy looked around him. "Would you perhaps like to sit with me, Arthur-kun...?" he offered, noting the lost look on the Brit's face. Arthur blinked, secretly pleased.

"Well, yes, that's very kind of you," he replied, adding another quick "thank you" for good measure. Kiku nodded, and led him to a small group of desks towards the left side of the hall. Several other students were huddled round the desks, leafing through exercise books or murmuring softly to each other. One of them, another Asian boy with long brown hair tied up at the back, looked up as they approached.

"Who's your friend, _Aru_?" he adressed Kiku, giving Arthur a curious yet amicable glance.

"Arthur Kirkland," the Brit answered for himself, holding his hand out. "I moved here a month or so ago. This is my first day at the Academy."

"Ah, I am Wang Yao," the teen gave by way of response. "This is Honda Kiku, though I'm sure you knew that already, _Aru_," he smiled and motioned towards the japanese boy. "Have you met many of the students yet...?" Arthur shook his head.

"No, not really, apart from yourselves and-" he was abruptly cut short by an excitable cry from across the room.

"Yo! Artie! There you are!" A flash of gold hair signalled Alfred's blundering approach. Arthur paused for a second, before his brain processed what had just been said.

"..._Artie?!_"

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**Yay, new countries/characters! Japan, Prussia and China have decided to appear. Don't ask me why...xD**

**I wasn't sure if that was the correct use of the japanese honorifics/suffixes, but I think 'kun' is used for teenage boys, right...? Correct me if I'm wrong, my japanese skills are non-existant.**

**Thanks so much for all your reviews so far~ Please keep them coming!**

**~Chinquix  
**


	5. Chapter 5 Nicknames

***swears under breath* WHY DID THIS TURN OUT SO TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY CRAPPY. Urgh. I'm sorry, this whole story is rapidly deteriorating with every chapter...**

**Oh, this Chapter may be a little confusing, so I've tried to explain as much as possible at the end.**

**For heaven's sake, Chapter 5, get on with it...**

**

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**_"Arty...? W-what happened...?"_

Arthur drew himself up to his full height, which even then wasn't incredibly intimidating, and shot a fiery glare at Alfred.

"My name is not _Arty," _he growled, "It's _Arthur_, and you'd do well to remember that!"

"Woah, it's just a nickname!" The American raised his arms as if to deflect the force of the scowl, managing to look both hurt and amused simultaneously. "Besides, I think it's cute!" he exclaimed, causing Arthur to blush abruptly. Alfred turned to the slightly startled Asians who had been observing the heated exchange. "You think so too, right, Kiku?" he gave the short Japanese teen a beseeching look, which the raven haired boy squirmed under uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes, I suppose so..." At that moment, a fierce looking blond with electric green eyes, who had apparently been eavesdropping, stormed up to the desk and pointed directly at Kiku.

"Give your own opinions!" he practically screamed, before charging off again in the opposite direction. Arthur blinked, confused as to why everyone else seemed to ignore this odd incident. At least it had distracted attention from his flushed face, he supposed.

"...Anyway," the Brit continued after the heat in his cheeks had died down, a little bewildered, "I don't care if it sounds...c-cute. I don't like it." He folded his arms, as if to say 'and that's that, my decision is final'.

_"...you got beat up again, didn't you? Arty, why didn't you tell me sooner?! You know you can trust me..."_

Shaking his head slightly, Arthur tried his best to ignore the surfacing memories. It would do no good to start reminiscing, especially not now, not here. He realized suddenly that Alfred had been talking, and he quickly resumed focus on the present.

"-guys think of Arthur? He's pretty stuck up, yeah?" Alfred laughed, sending a jolt of irritation up the Briton's spine. Noting the older boy's reaction, the American smiled sweetly and gripped Arthur's shoulder, making his heart rate quicken ever so slightly. "Nah, I'm just kidding! We're pals, right?"

"Get _off_ me, you git..." the smaller blond scolded him, brushing away imaginary dust when he was released. "And we are _not_ 'pals'. I barely even _know_ you...we met this morning, for Christ's sake," he moved away, turning a blind eye to Alfred's _most definately not adorable _crestfallen expression.

Recovering quickly, however, the tall blond followed the new student, overtaking him then walking backwards so that the two were facing each other. Arthur was forced to slow down.

"I know, I just feel like we could be good friends, ya know...?" the younger teen shrugged, a small grin playing on his lips. "But I suppose, if you don't wanna..." the grin became a pout. Sighing and cursing his weakness, Arthur came to a halt.

"Fine. Whatever. You want to be friends, then we're friends." He vaguely wondered what on earth he had let himself in for, an apprehension that only increased when Alfred whooped and brought him into a bone crushing hug.

_Oh, perfect Arthur....what in the world led you to say that?! _He complained to himself, exasperated. _Now you're stuck with this prat..._He decided he would definitely have to be stricter in the future. He'd obviously been far too merciful to the American.

***

The walk home was a long one. It seemed that since the morning, the route had considerably increased in length, purposefully to further aggravate the already vexed Brit; then again, Arthur mused, it could merely be the fact that the day had all but exhausted him, leaving little energy for his journey. The next instant, his foot slipped off the curb and into a conveniently placed puddle.

No. The path was _definitely_ tormenting him.

Cursing with weary malice, Arthur drew the foot up to inspect the damage, huffing as he saw the muddy, wet stain spreading from the hem of his trousers.

"Oh, bloody _brilliant._" He threw his hands up to the sky, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. He'd have to dry the things now, not to mention scrub all that dirt from them. At least an hour of his evening, wasted. "Blasted country..." he muttered to himself sourly, hunching his shoulders and continuing back home, accompanied with a maddening _squelch _every other step. By the time the small house loomed into view, he was thoroughly fed up.

Storming up the garden path, Arthur fumbled for his keys for a second before realizing the front door was already unlocked. Frowning, he pushed it open slowly, glancing down the dimly lit hallway. A familiar coat was dumped haphazardly on the carpeted floor, and Arthur rolled his eyes before picking it up and placing it on one of the metal pegs to his left, grumbling under his breath about those slovenly brothers of his.

"Arty...? That you?" A male voice, tinted with a slight Welsh accent, called out from the kitchen. Pausing to shrug off his own jacket and hang it alongside his elder brother's, Arthur confirmed his presence with a shout, then wandered into the tiled room, leaning against one of the counters.

"How was your day, dear?" the older boy asked with a mischievous grin, earning a punch to the arm for his troubles.

"Shut up, Merry..." Arthur growled, not in the mood for his brother's games in his present state of mind. Wincing at the nickname, rather than the punch, the auburn-haired man returned to his cooking, tightening the apron around his waist.

"I was just asking, Arty..." he mumbled, feigning hurt. Relenting slightly, Arthur shrugged, folding his arms.

"Well, it's certainly an impressive school," he offered. "Not too sure about the locals, though." His brother snorted.

"What did you expect, _brawd_? They're American. But.." A pause. "You are enjoying yourself, aren't you? I mean, you feel comfortable there?" Looking up at the concerned gaze of his brother, Arthur couldn't help but smile slightly.

"...yes, David." He replied after a second or two of silence, this time addressing the elder with his first name. "I think I am finding it..._enjoyable_." He didn't mention how fatigued his first day had left him, but Arthur imagined it was just the stress of adjusting to a new school; nothing his brother needed to worry himself about.

Still looking a little unconvinced, David studied Arthur for a moment, before giving a resigned sigh and turning back to the stove. The younger of the two hesitated, then left the kitchen and ambled into the small living room.

"Oh, I forgot to say! I'm making soup, if you want any," David called after him a few minutes later, causing Arthur to shake his head fondly at the Welshman's absentmindedness.

"I'm fine, thank you," he shouted back, then lowered his voice. "Wouldn't touch _your _cooking with a barge pole..." A sudden thought hit him, and he glanced at the clock above the television.

_3:00. Bugger._

"David!" he shouted, exasperated, "you were supposed to pick up Peter, you dolt!" He dashed into the kitchen, startling his brother, who blinked at him with a confused expression. Then realization dawned on him.

"...._cach!_" David swore, abandoning his post by the bubbling saucepan. In the blink on an eye, he'd ripped off the apron, replaced it with his coat and was flying out the front door. "I'll be back soon...!" he hollered over his shoulder, before the door slammed and Arthur was left alone in the silence.

* * *

**I'm in a very odd mood right now, which probably means it's not the best time to post this, but...yeah, copied straight from my comment on deviantART;**

_**I should explain a little of my head-canon...as far as I'm concerned, England's brothers are Wales, Scotland, and the Republic of Ireland. His sister is Northern Ireland (who is ROI's twin). Then, of course, there's Sealand. All of these will apear in the fic eventually. Obviously, Wales is David. Arthur calls him 'Merry' because his full name (again, according to me xD) is David Merlyn Kirkland, Merlyn being shortened to Merry. All the Kirklands have pet names for each other...don't ask me why. I don't even know. Also, I have this belief that they all hate each other's cooking, yet at the same time believe their's is the best. Again, a product of my messed up imagination ^^;**_

_**brawd is Welsh for 'brother', and cach is a Welsh swearword. I used Google for this, so I don't know how accurate it is...**_

_**Finally, I've realised this Chapter is a little anti-American, so...sorry about that ^^; Blame Merry!**_

**/copied comment. I'm really sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today. I think I'm a little too excited about all the new series starting on tv soon...(Have I Got News For You, Ashes To Ashes, Doctor Who....etc.) Please review, if it's not too much trouble.  
**

**~ChinquixWolf  
**


	6. Chapter 6 Exploring

**Sorry this chapter took a while. I don't even know why, I'm off school and everything...^^; Thanks for all your reviews so far!**

**Chapter 6~  
**

* * *

Arthur was used to being alone. Even with five siblings, he rarely felt involved with the daily family routine, finding himself instead pushed to the sidelines, a mere spectator. Nonetheless, the silent house was starting to make him a little uncomfortable. He eyed the front door for a while, frowning, and wondered if he dared leave the house unguarded. He turned around and started walking back towards the living room, then paused, turned back the other way again. He groaned. The atmosphere in the hallway was now unbearably tense; perhaps he could explore his new town, having little time to do so in the chaotic weeks after their arrival. Sighing, he spun on his heel once more and jogged upstairs.

After rummaging through the bedroom cupboard for a while, Arthur eventually pulled out a number of casual clothes. He tapped his chin, contemplating, then settled on a white shirt, green sweater vest and umber trousers. After all, he was only going into town. No need for anything too smart.

He eased his jacket off the coathook once he'd made his way back downstairs, slipping it on and checking his appearance in the hall mirror. He hastily scribbled a note to his brothers, informing them of his whereabouts and departure time, before grabbing his keys, backing out of the front door and locking it, then strolled up the garden path.

***

Despite himself, Arthur could feel a small smile tugging at his lips as he wandered. The autumn colours here were spectacular, much brighter than what he was used to back home, though of course he would never admit that out loud. It was also nice to breathe in relatively clean air for once, untinted by London smog.

Strangers called out greetings as he passed, another aspect of American culture that he couldn't begin to fathom, but he still found himself waving back, albeit a little self-consciously.

Then he heard an all too familiar voice.

"Ah, _l'Anglais_! Over here, _mon ami_!" Wincing at the loathsome accent, Arthur glanced across the street somewhat reluctantly, to be met with the view of a frantically gesturing frenchman. Quickly avoiding his gaze, Arthur wondered for a minute if he could pretend he hadn't seen him, and just continue on his stroll. No such luck. Francis was jogging over the road to meet him, an incomprehensible look upon his face that Arthur found more than slightly disturbing.

"Arthur, _mon cher_, I did not know you lived here! You must show me your home sometime, _oui_?" he moved his hand in a languid motion, posture lazy. He too had changed out of uniform, and seemed to be wearing some sort of royal blue cape. Arthur frowned, ignoring the question.

"Don't most students live here?" he asked, wondering why the frog was so surprised to see him. Francis merely raised an eyebrow.

"_Non_, many come from 'ze larger towns. 'Zey take the buses here." Seemingly satisfied with his own explanation, he snaked a hand round the Briton's shoulder. "So, it's just you and me, _chéri._" Francis spoke in a low purr, which became a startled grunt when a fist connected with his chin.

"Get your filthy hands off of me, wine bastard!" Arthur growled back, then made to storm off. Unfortunately, the frenchman followed.

He whined at Arthur. "Ah, you're so cruel, _mon ami_! But, per'aps it is because you have your affections set on someone else...?" He raised a slender eyebrow suggestively. A death glare was his answer. Francis chuckled. "Come now, I saw how you acted around Alfred...you find _l'Américain _attractive."

Arthur almost tripped over. He felt his face flush and spluttered, ashamed, before finally recovering his voice. "H-how dare you! I thought nothing of the sort..." he averted his gaze, frowning stubbornly.

"Aha, it's alright, I won't tell~" Francis persisted, his voice taking on a songlike quality. The Brit simply scoffed.

"There's nothing _too_ tell. I find the git extremely irritating, nothing more." He suddenly realised that the two of them had been walking so far, that they were now just outside the local middle school. He mentally thanked his good luck. "Well, it's been _lovely_ talking with you, Francis, but I'm afraid I must go and pick up my younger brother..." he indicated towards the school. Alright, so maybe he was lying, but there were _some_ elements of truth. Before the frenchman could react, he darted through the open gates and across the playground, catching his breath against the main doors. He watched a bemused Francis shrug, then walk off, and let out a sigh of relief. If he'd been forced to spend another minute in that man's presence, he swore he would have-

"Jerk?!" Cringing, Arthur turned round, ever so slowly. Fierce blue eyes met his own.

"Peter, there you are!" he laughed nervously. "I thought I'd come and pick you up." The younger boy definitely did not look pleased. As if to prove this fact, his younger brother's scowl grew even deeper.

"Why? David's here, even if he was _really _late. I don't want you cramping my style, too." It was Arthur's turn to frown.

"That's such an American expression, Peter..." he chastised the boy, who merely shrugged.

"Well, we're _in_ America."

A hearty laugh interrupted the imminent argument, and the two turned to see David chatting with a young female teacher. The Welshman seemed to sense the eyes on him, and glanced round, eyes widening in mild surprise.

"Eh, Arthur? What're you doing here, boyo? I told you I was picking up Peter."

Arthur searched for an explanation. "Uh, well, I...just wanted to see how Peter's first day of school went...?" he offered, mentally cursing himself. David gave him an odd look, then shrugged.

"Ah well, I think he had fun, didn't you, Pete?" The 12 year old grunted in reply.

The two older Kirklands shared a look, then David coughed. "Right then, best be getting back. Ta-ra, Miss," he waved to the teacher cheerily, then led his brothers out the door.

"Actually, Merry," Arthur interrupted, once he was sure there was no sign of Francis, "I think I'll stay around for a while. Do some exploring." David nodded his permission, and walked back in the direction of their home, Peter in tow. Arthur sighed. Maybe now he'd be able to wander in peace.

* * *

**Do you need the french translations...? They're all pretty self-explanatory, right? **

**It's so fun writing as a Welshman...I don't quite no why. 'Boyo' is just Welsh slang for 'friend' or 'mate' or whatever, and I've heard a Welsh person use 'ta-ra' before, but I'm not sure if it's correct slang ^^; Sealand appears for the first time this chapter :D I'm guessing middle school is the right stage of schooling for a 12 year old...?**

**Reviews are welcome as ever ^^**

**~Chinquix**


	7. Chapter 7 Family

**Sorry for the long-ish wait ^^;**

* * *

Arthur had made a pretty thorough examination of the town by the time the sun was just starting to set. He checked his watch, and was shocked to see it was already gone six. Cursing himself, he began to jog in the general direction of the house, slightly worried that he may not be able to find his way back. Fortunately, the street names were still fresh in his mind, so the hastened return journey was far less troublesome than he expected.

He was panting only slightly by the time the small house came into view (Arthur prized himself on his fitness, despite his weak appearance), but the sound of raised voices caused him to draw to a halt. He cringed. The shouts weren't out of anger, it seemed, as they were accompanied by the occasional bark of laughter, though this revelation did little to placate Arthur. If anything, it only made it worse, as there was only one possible explanation. The twins were home.

Hesitating for a moment, Arthur considered just walking away. However, he breathed a reluctant sigh, deciding his siblings would only worry if he was out any later. As he stepped closer warily, he realised the door was wide open, and gave an irritated sigh. Honestly, they had no notion of privacy. The whole town could probably hear them! Stiffening his shoulders, like a dog preparing for a fight, he walked reluctantly towards the front door.

"Yeah, I know! And then, this girl at the checkout stares at me when I asked her for a packet of fags, then asks me if I'm from Australia! _Australia!_ I mean, do I _sound_ Aussie to you?" Arthur tried to shuffle past his ginger haired brother, who was currently blocking the hallway, without being noticed. Unfortunately, his cunning plan failed. "Arrrrrthur! There you are, brat!" The older boy broke from his rant and called in a sing-song voice, pulling the blond into a headlock. "So, aren't you gonna ask how my day was?"

"No need, Seamus, I heard you from the street," Arthur deadpanned, his eloquent manner of speaking contrasting greatly with the coarse Irish dialect of his brother. He struggled against Seamus' hold, pulling himself free.

He passed Erin, Seamus' twin sister, on the stairs, and nodded cordially to her. Despite being his older sister, Arthur generally kept his distance from her; he'd once witnissed her beat David with a rolling pin after he'd criticised her cooking, and was not willing to share the same fate.

Arthur pushed open the door to his bedroom, kicking off his shoes into the corner then arranging them tidily. He heard Peter run past making plane noises, and shook his head, exasperated with his entirely hopeless family. Still, when he heard the distinctive sounds of David and Seamus singing a duet of 'Tubthumping' downstairs, he couldn't keep the fond smile from his face.

***

Breakfast was a chaotic affair. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Arthur had to press his back against the tiles of the kitchen wall as David hurried past, three plates balanced on his arm. Erin was sat in a business suit, reading the paper, whilst her twin and Peter were sniggering over some private joke. Arthur rolled his eyes. It was hard to believe his brother and sister were both 26, sometimes, with the way Seamus behaved.

"Cheers, Merry," Erin muttered as David passed her a plate, not lifting her eyes from the paper. "I've got that job interview this morning, so I don't really want to be late..." there was a hint of a threat laced in her voice, which the brothers didn't fail to pick up on. Basically, 'mess up my day, and you're dead'.

Arthur took a seat opposite Peter. "I thought you'd already secured a job?" he addressed his sister as he buttered a slice of toast, reaching for the jam (he absolutely _refused_ to refer to it as jelly).

She shrugged. "Well, the interview's just to finalise a few things, I think." Arthur hummed, unconvinced, but let the matter slide. Despite being the second youngest, he often felt responsible for the small family.

Glancing at the clock, Arthur estimated he had another ten minutes or so before he'd have to leave the house. Seamus repeated the action, and cursed. He scrambled out of his chair.

"Dammit...I gotta go, else, I'll miss the bus!" he yelled hastily from the hallway, then the door slammed. The remaining Kirklands glanced at each other.

"What was that about?" David mused.

"No idea. But then again, it _is _Seamus. I'm not entirely sure I _want_ to know." Arthur drawled, finishing his breakfast and dropping the empty plate in the sink. David snorted his agreement.

"I better be going too actually, Merry," Arthur continued, retrieving his school bag. Erin and his remaining brothers bid him a lazy farewell as he left the house.

***

"Yo! Artie!" Arthur ground his teeth at the nickname, refusing to turn around and aknowledge the exuberant American as he bounded off the schoolbus towards him. A hand fell heavily on his shoulder, startling him, and he glared upwards. Those already familiar blue eyes sparkled back at him. "G'mornin'! You sleep well?"

Arthur scowled at the question, bemused. "What an odd thing to ask.." he grumbled, though he was secretly pleased to have _someone_ care about his wellbeing. A small blush betrayed this thought. Alfred didn't seem to notice, and just laughed emphatically.

"So, buddy, you know where you're going today?" Alfred gave a cheeky grin, "Or do you need me to show you round again?" He yelped as a well aimed punch hit his shoulder. "Hey! That hurt!" Arthur scowled at him, offering no sympathy.

The two walked side by side through the school gates, arguing as they went.

* * *

**A/N: First of all, if you've never heard the song before, type 'Tubthumping' into Youtube. It always makes me laugh xD Next, Seamus' rant. This was actually based on a story my dad told me about a guy he works with, who went on a business trip to America. He asked someone for a fag which, to those who don't know, is British slang for a _cigarette_ (not the same meaning in America), and got weird looks, then was asked if he was from Australia because of his accent, even though he has one of the strongest cockney accents ever xD**

**Also, jam/=jelly! I would imagine Arthur would be very against this...jam is jam. Jelly is the wobbly pudding stuff you get at parties. Jello doesn't exist. **

**AND Seamus=Republic of Ireland, Erin=Northern Ireland. I didn't base their personalities on the parts of Ireland or anything, that's just how it turned out...^^; There's a reason Scotland hasn't appeared yet. Trust me. _I'm sounding a little bit full of myself....¬_¬_  
**

**So sorry if I've messed up with anything...I probably have orz**

**Please, please review! It means a lot!**

**~Chinquix  
**


	8. Chapter 8 Sighting

**Uh, wow. This took a while. I'm _really _sorry about that! This chapter is slightly longer, though obviously that doesn't make up for the delay...**

* * *

Arthur _hated_ algebra. He'd never been able to grasp it, especially as maths wasn't exactly his strong point to begin with, and it certainly didn't help when Alfred ignored his lamentations and instead insisted that this subject was _math_, not _maths_.

Much to the Brits chagrin, the bespectacled blond had been waiting for him after he'd shuffled out of the classroom with the other students, head physically aching from the mental labour of polynomials. They were now making their way to the canteen, Alfred grinning and once again refusing to leave his side; he'd asked how Arthur's second day at the Academy had been going so far, then cut him off halfway through and hadn't stopped blabbering since. Needless to say, it wasn't helping the older blond's headache in the slightest.

"Oh, really, so you're struggling with math?" Alfred glanced at him, that damn irritating smile of his not leaving his face for an instance. Arthur glared, silent. The younger simply shrugged, and continued, "only, I'm pretty awesome at it myself, so I could give you a hand, yeah?" Something indiscernible sparkled in his eyes, off-setting his nonchalant posture. Arthur bit back a comment on the American's arrogance, mentally noting that despite his pride, he really _did _need help in this particular area, and his new-found companion may just be able to provide that assistance. He sighed, deciding he may as well accept the offer.

"Well. If it's not too much bother," he began, muttering in order to reduce the level of damage to his ego, then hastily adding "not that I'm _grateful_!" at the sight of Alfred's far too enthusiastic face. Too late; he suddenly found himself falling forward after a supposedly friendly slap to his shoulder which involved far too much force. Seemingly oblivious, the taller boy simply carried on walking, proclaiming how 'awesome' a tutor he was going to be. Arthur rolled his eyes and simply tuned the younger boy out, focusing instead on keeping up with his much longer strides and allowing his mind to wander. The American rarely ever seemed to shut up, though Arthur had to admit that he'd rather listen to whatever nonsense Alfred babbled about all day than spend his time in silence, ignored by the rest of the students. And, if he thought about it, the childlike excitement that Alfred seemed to exude could be considered rather...endearing, to some extent.

"Uh, Artie?"

The Brits head shot up, surprised both by the interruption and the fact that Alfred appeared to have fallen silent. Those blue eyes were studying him, wide and curious. Arthur felt his cheeks heat up.

"W-what, what are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?" He tried to catch his reflection in the windows, but Alfred just shook his head in the negative and grinned sheepishly.

"It's nothing, really, it's just you were uh...smiling." His ears turned pink, and there was a brief silence.

"..._smiling?_" Arthur tried after a second, looking for confirmation. Alfred nodded slightly, not meeting his eyes. Arthur bristled, feeling somewhat insulted whilst simultaneously baffled. "Well, so what if I was smiling?"

The American was fidgeting. "Y'know, it's just you don't do it very often, and...yeah..." he trailed off, then laughed, far too loudly. "Hey, never mind, we gotta go get some lunch!" He grabbed the smaller blond's arm, propelling him forwards along the corridor, ignoring the indignant splutters and curses.

"Git!" Arthur managed to spit out.

"Old man!" came the reply.

And everything was normal again.

"Bugger, bugger, _bugger_!"

Arthur hit his head against the table with each repeat of the curse. He hid his face against it for a moment longer, exhaling slowly and scrunching his eyes closed. Then he looked up into the amused gaze of a certain American.

Alfred grinned. "Dude, I can't believe you've never heard of logarithms. I mean, _seriously_?" His speech was littered with barely contained chuckles.

Arthur threw a pen at him, expression dangerously nearing a pout. "Shut up, you idiot! And don't call me _dude._ I thought you were supposed to be helping me." As if to solidify his point, the Briton sent a forlorn look at the open book in front of him, homework spread across the desk. He'd just incorrectly solved _yet another _problem, and at this stage was more than ready to give up. Now the infuriating individual who'd somehow become his private tutor had started spouting complete nonsense about...about _logs_, which he was sure had nothing to do with maths anyway and sounded completely ridiculous. Logarithms. What a stupid word. He bet it was invented by an American.

He was about to vocalise this opinion when he caught sight of the Vice-principal striding purposefully towards him. His throat suddenly felt uncomfortably dry, an instinctual feeling of dread taking hold as the cool blue eyes of Professor Beilschmidt locked onto his own gaze. Alfred seemed to have noticed Arthur's sudden change in mood, as he frowned, bemused, before following the Briton's line of sight.

"Arthur Kirkland?" The Vice Principal addressed him. Arthur nodded mutely. "The Principal wishes to see you. Come with me."  
Flashing an almost panicked glance at Alfred, who by now appeared considerably concerned, Arthur finally managed a trembling "Alright" before following the commanding blond figure. He was dimly aware of the American calling after him, but it seemed far away; his thoughts were focussed on the myriad of possibilities for his summons, wishing, _praying_ that it wasn't for the he thought it was.

Soon enough, he found himself once more in front of the Principals office. The door was ajar, and with surprising gentleness Professor Beilschmidt ushered him in. Principal Rome was at his desk, and upon Arthur's entrance he looked up, beckoning him closer. His wore no smile this time, mouth turned downwards slightly at the corners, and Arthur found himself grateful that at least it seemed the man would be honest with him.

Rome sighed, giving the boy before him a sympathetic look, before pressing his hands together.

"Arthur," he began, "before we start, I have to ask you...you're aware of how much we know here? About your family?" Immediately, the blond's stomach dropped. He shook his head in the positive, and the Principal continued. "Naturally, there are some details that have to remain private, and I don't want you to think that we're, well, _intruding _in any way. But I believe you should know that we understand the situation with your eldest brother," here Arthur choked out a sound, attempting to protest, but was silenced with a look. "Yes, we understand the details, and as an institution we have the duty to protect you as well as is legally and humanly possible." There was a pause. "Your brother Seamus called a few minutes ago, Arthur, and he wants to talk to you. It seems Alastair Kirkland has been sighted within the vicinity of the Academy."

* * *

**So. I have many excuses for the delay with the next chapter, but I'm not going to use any of them. I am, however, very sorry if you've been waiting for an update and thanks so much if you're still with the story.  
**

**I'm not too keen on this chapter, but I felt I had to come up with something. Sorry for the cliffhanger ^^;  
Also, many thanks to my beta, ShaCaro.**

**~Chinquix  
**


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